I’ve started this post a few times tonight, stopping and deleting it in fits of self-censorship.
Fires and the plague are central to our existence right now, and the vigilance is, frankly, exhausting, leaving my patience thin and my ability to care about much else beyond the safety and well-being of my family, loved ones, and community pretty much non-existent.
I’ll choose my own things to care about in the world, these days.
Forever ago, back when we were only in the double digits of Staying the Fuck Inside, I spent several nights reading The Hobbit to the family.
I think it’s time to read another book. I’ve chosen A Wrinkle in Time. Kiddo is in third grade now, and that’s when I first encountered it. I’m wondering what he’ll make of it.
And no, we have no intention of watching any of the film adaptations afterwards. I’d rather he have his own version in his head, just as I wish to retain my own.
Maybe we’ll do some of the other stories in the Quintet at some point later.
Depends on a lot of things.